


Black to White

by athena_crikey



Category: Bleach
Genre: Blindness, Fix-it fic, Happy Ending, M/M, Pre-Slash, h/c, post-blood war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 21:16:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16605593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athena_crikey/pseuds/athena_crikey
Summary: In which it turns out that Kannonbiraki Benihime Aratame has a time limit.





	Black to White

_Missing in action_. They’re words Ichigo associates with old war movies, with creased thrillers and history textbooks. Not with his life.

But then, this _was_ war. An all-out fight for survival, each side battling tooth and nail. And the casualties have been appalling. Men and women struck down from all divisions, from captains to foot soldiers. The head of the Gotei 13; the Soul King. No one has been untouched by the deaths. 

There are huge lists of names posted outside the 1st, many crossed out in red ink – those who won’t return. More still have been underlined in black – those who will. But lost somewhere in the middle, trapped in limbo, are the rest. The unknown. 

_Missing in action._

He hadn’t checked the lists, when he first came back. Had returned to Seireitei with most of those he set out with and assumed the others were following on. It’s only when he’s starting to think about going home that he looks around for his ever-present shadow, the man who’s watched him from behind since he first met Rukia.

But Kisuke is nowhere to be found. 

Ichigo checks the 12th, checks the SRDI, checks even the 2nd. Nothing.

Only then does he check the lists. And sees Kisuke’s name printed elegantly in black, staring down at him. 

It’s like a knife to the gut. 

He never looked, because it simply never _occurred_ to him that Kisuke might not come back. Not even with other captains falling to the war, not even with his nearest and dearest threatened. Because Kisuke, despite his light-hearted affect, is unmovable, unshakable as the firmament. Is never without a plan, a scheme, and a trick up his sleeve. 

But his name is on the list. Black on white. 

_Missing in action._

  
***

Kyouraku has the Soul King’s palace barred off. There are reconstruction teams working their way through the transformed space, trying to make sense of the changes Yhwach brought to it, and there are teams of Shinigami looking for survivors (and the bodies of the fallen). No one else is permitted entrance.

Day by day as they work the names crossed out in red grow, while those underlined in black shrink. They aren’t finding survivors anymore. Just corpses. 

“Let me look,” Ichigo asks Kyouraku. Begs him, really. “He must be there – let me _find_ him.”

But Kyouraku is unusually immovable, face dark and lined with the weight of command. “They will find him, Ichigo-san. There’s nothing more you can do.”

  
***

He stays in Seireitei, waiting for news. He’s given palatial quarters, granted every convenience, even given a seatless Shinigami from the 1st to run errands for him and convey messages, should he have any that need conveying.

But all he needs is to know where Kisuke is.

  
***

On the third day, Yoruichi shows up. She’s in cat form, which perhaps partially excuses the guards’ negligence in allowing her into the 1st and into his quarters.

He’s polishing Zangetsu when she appears, a sleek black form in the corner of his vision. He nearly drops his sword. Her name was right below Kisuke’s on the lists.

“Yoruichi-san!” He springs up, placing Zangetsu hurriedly on the desk beside him. “Are you okay?” and then, unable even to wait for the answer: “Where’s Kisuke?”

“You should come,” she says gruffly. 

“Come where? Is he okay?” 

“He’s in the human world. At the Shoten.”

Ichigo swings Zangetsu up onto his back. “Let’s go.”

It’s the work of a moment to open a Garganta; they step inside together and cross quickly to the other side. It lets them out on the street outside the Shoten.

“Where the hell has he been?” asks Ichigo as they step out, Yoruichi leaping delicately over the edge and down onto the asphalt. 

“He was saving my life,” says Yoruichi, looking up at him with her strikingly yellow eyes. “I was poisoned by Askin. He needed his lab to save me.”

“He could have used the SDRI! He would have had help there!”

“He wanted the familiarity of home,” she says. 

“I’ve been worried sick, and he’s been playing chemist?” 

“Ichigo…” he hears her calling him but he’s already slammed the door open. The shop’s empty, no trace of Tessai or the kids. He strides right through, kicks off his shoes, and climbs up into the house behind. He’s fuming now, three days of suffocating anxiety turning instantly to anger. He couldn’t have sent a note? Ichigo thinks. _Couldn’t take the time for a quick call? ‘Hi, I survived the War, see you soon’_?

He reaches Kisuke’s bedroom and slams open the shoji door. Kisuke’s sitting at his Meiji-era desk, for once not wearing his hat. His blond hair catches the light and shines softly, like a golden halo in a Renaissance painting. 

“Kisuke!” he snaps, striding over. 

Kisuke turns. He’s wearing dark full-moon glasses – so dark Ichigo can’t see his eyes behind them. He smiles. He looks ridiculous as always, although now with something of a beatnik air added to his usual absurdity. All he needs is a cigarette and a beret to complete the look.

“Ichigo-san. I should have figured Yoruichi would bring you as soon as she got up off her sickbed. She could never resist dramatic reunions.”

He’s coldly furious, completely uninterested in Kisuke’s usual banter. “Cut the crap. Where have you been? And why didn’t you tell me you were okay? Do you know what it’s been like, sitting there in Seireitei while the death counts ratchet up each day, with your name on the missing list?”

Kisuke knits his fingers together. “I’m sorry,” he says, with what looks like real contrition. But he carries on: “I’m afraid I simply didn’t have the time. Yoruichi needed a cure immediately and her brother required healing – I couldn’t spare a moment.”

“That’s bullshit – a text would have taken two seconds. All it takes is two letters: O.K.”

“And then you would have come and gotten under foot, and insisted on bringing in others, and exceptional as I am even I cannot work miracles in undesirable circumstances.” He sighs. “Perhaps you could fetch some tea? I haven’t had time to drink much in the past three days; I’m rather parched.”

It’s well-acted, Kisuke pulling off the over-tired hard-working friend routine well. But there’s something beneath it, the foundation of his show cracked like thin ice. 

“I’ll get it for you if you’ll tell me the real reason you didn’t want to see me. What are you hiding?”

Kisuke’s eyebrows arch upwards. “So distrustful,” he says, in a false-wounded tone.

“Tell him, Kisuke.” Yoruichi’s voice is rough, the tone sharp.

“Tell me what?”

Kisuke reaches up slowly, and picks up the glasses by one arm. He removes them to show closed eyes. His eyelids are grossly sunken, the skin flabby and unsupported. 

Ichigo stares, his heart in his throat. 

“I think it would be better,” says Kisuke softly, “if I didn’t open them.”

“What _happened?_ ” he can barely speak, his horror a physical sensation – like being thrown in an icy lake and pulled out again to stand in the wind while his clothes freeze to his skin, like having liquid nitrogen poured down his throat to ice him from the inside-out.

“Askin destroyed his eyes,” answers Yoruichi flatly, while Kisuke puts the glasses back on. “With his Gift Ring.”

“But you came back – you healed Yoruichi-san!”

“My bankai allows me to restructure anything I care to – for a time. The time limit is two days. It took that long to develop a cure for Yoruichi-san. After that… I’m afraid I passed out for a time. I’m sorry,” he says again.

“Get up,” snaps Ichigo, coming to stand beside him and catching his elbow. “We’re going to see Inoue.”

“I think I had better have something to drink first,” says Kisuke, still politely but with more emphasis. Ichigo peers down at him. His face is drawn and wan, his hands trembling slightly. 

“When was the last time you ate?”

“Ahaha,” replies Kisuke, very vaguely. 

Ichigo has never felt worried for Kisuke before – he was always completely reliable, a steady presence and a wicked intellect that was without fail there for them all. Seeing him like this – it’s like a pillar of his world has suddenly showed signs of cracking.

“I’ll get you something,” he says. “And I can bring Inoue here.”

“I would prefer to go to Seireitei. I should assess the damage.”

“We’ll talk about it later.” 

He leaves Kisuke sitting at his desk, dark glasses shining slightly in the poor light. Yoruichi comes with him.

  
***

“I’ve never seen him like this before,” says Ichigo in the kitchen, boiling water for tea. He’s hunted through the cupboards and found some. He can filch snacks from the Shoten.

“Blind?” says Yoruichi, pulling no punches. 

“Helpless,” replies Ichigo, scowling.

“Oh, he’s not helpless. Not now. But it took all our strength – and Grimmjow – to defeat Askin. He told me later we were rescued by Nel; I have no memory of it. He was already working hard when I woke, and Tessai was taking care of Yuushirou. Everything was a mess. But Kisuke was his usual self – cool and focused – despite it all. Even knowing he was working to a time limit…” she sits down, back curved and tail raised high, twitching. “The fool passed out on the floor as soon as he’d administered the antidote. Tessai took him to bed. When I was up, he sent me through the Senkaimon to bring you.”

Ichigo has something of a better sense, now, of why no one sent for him before. 

He has a sudden picture of Kisuke working feverishly in his lab, not stopping to eat or drink or rest, terribly aware that in a very short time, he would be blind. Ichigo swallows, mouth suddenly dry. 

He pours out the tea and lets it steep for a moment, the kitchen filling with its soft, fragrant aroma. 

“Thank you,” he says, after a minute. “For thinking of me.”

Yoruichi looks up at him, yellow eyes sharp. “You’re good for him. You’re the best thing that happened for him in a hundred years. He’s had Tessai and the kids, but even then he was alone. He shouldn’t be.” 

Ichigo doesn’t know what to say to that. Yoruichi makes a gruff noise and twitches her whiskers: the closest a cat can come to a laugh. “You’ll keep him out of trouble.”

“Or at least go in after him,” says Ichigo, who isn’t very sure that _anything_ could keep Kisuke out of trouble. “Let me get some snacks,” he adds, and hurries out into the store to pick up some salmon onigiri and a pre-packaged ham sandwich.

  
***

Ichigo brings the food and tea to Kisuke’s room on a tray. He puts the tea on the desk and watches Kisuke reach out carefully, hand passing through the air until it comes to touch the porcelain cup. He drinks deeply, thirstily.

It makes Ichigo’s chest hurt.

To distract himself, Ichigo opens the onigiri and wraps the riceball in its seaweed cover before handing one to Kisuke who takes it with an unsteady hand. “Feeding me my own wares,” he says, with a smile. 

“You were expecting something home-made?” grouses Ichigo, with humour he doesn’t feel. “If you want proper nursing, I’m the wrong Kurosaki. We’ll get Yuzu in here – she’d do a great job.”

“Charming as that would be, I can manage with just one Kurosaki, I think. My preferred one, naturally,” he adds, beaming. 

It’s hard to know when Kisuke’s being serious, but Ichigo _thinks_ he is, now. He blushes slightly, safe in the knowledge that Kisuke is unaware of it.

There’s no other chair in the room, just Kisuke’s futon still laid out on the floor, his blanket thrown back and his pillow beaten down. Ichigo leans his hip up against the desk and watches Kisuke eat (he doesn’t deign to touch the sandwich). Yoruichi is elsewhere, bored with their mundane talk.

Ichigo feels cold and empty inside. For the past three days he was full to the brim with anxiety and fear, stuffed so tightly with it that he could hardly walk, could hardly _breathe_. The moment he learned of Kisuke’s retreat to the human world and the Shoten, it turned to fiery anger like gasoline-doused straw. He went up like a scarecrow on a pyre, furious with Kisuke’s deception at his expense. 

Now that he knows why, he feels as though he’s been hollowed out by a scoop, all the ashes of his fear and fury shovelled out to leave him empty. He should feel relief, but in the face of Kisuke’s grievous injury he can’t. He _will_ , he knows, but right now he can’t. 

“You’re very quiet,” says Kisuke, finishing his onigiri and reaching out slowly again to pick up his tea. He tips it slowly to his mouth, unsure how full it is. 

“I’ve never been worried about you before,” says Ichigo, crossing his arms over his chest and looking into the distance. “Then you didn’t come back. For days. While everyone else who didn’t come back was being found – dead. I just… it’s never occurred to me before that you might _not_ be there for me. I guess that’s selfish,” he adds softly. 

“I’m flattered by your faith,” replies Kisuke. “And I _am_ sorry for making you worry. It was cruel of me – I’ve never learned to take the feelings of others into account in my plans. It’s a failing I can’t seem to correct. And… I didn’t know you would care so much.”

“Yoruichi did,” points out Ichigo. 

Kisuke smiles briefly. “She has always been far more perceptive than me.” He finishes his tea.

Ichigo pushes off the desk. “You ready to go?”

“I suppose so.” He rises slowly, Ichigo reaching out and catching his elbow. He can feel Kisuke’s shakiness even as he recognizes how hard the scientist is fighting to stand straight-backed, affecting an unphased demeanor. 

Ichigo opens a Garganta and helps him step through.

  
***

He takes them straight to the Fourth, where Inoue has been helping heal the wounded. Kisuke walks beside him, his arm tucked through Ichigo’s. The corridors are wide and clear; it’s easy to navigate them.

Unsure where exactly Inoue is, he takes Kisuke to the captain’s office. Isane is absent but Kiyone is there, and on sight of them drops the brush she was holding. Ink smears across the wooden floor, the brush’s handle rattling. 

“Urahara-san!” she exclaims, hurrying over.

“Do you know where Inoue is?” he asks, while she stares.

“Um – yes – I can find her!”

“Bring her here, will you?”

“Yes!” She straightens towards a salute, then hurries out. Ichigo leads Kisuke over to a chair positioned in front of the captain’s desk and sits him down. 

“You will stay?” it sounds like a question, but Ichigo recognizes the request in it.

“Of course I’m staying.”

  
***

Inoue is found and shuttled back to the captain’s office; she’s wearing a shihakusho, her own clothes too dirty to wear day after day, her long hair done up as it was the first time she came to Seireitei. She has clearly been told of Kisuke’s return, because she doesn’t seem shocked to see him. The glasses, though, make her frown.

“Urahara-san,” she says as she crosses the floor. “I’m so glad to see you.”

Kisuke smiles gently. “Always a pleasure, Inoue-san.”

“Is Yoruichi-san alright?”

“She’s fine. As is Yuushirou – he should be back home by now.”

She comes to a stop before him. “I’m glad,” she says again. “Let’s get you fixed up. Can you take off the glasses, please?”

He does so, revealing his sunken, empty eyes. Inoue’s face creases tenderly. “Is it painful?”

“At first it was, yes. Since the reconstruction failed, no.”

“The reconstruction?” she asks, while two of the Shun Shun Rikka split and appear in the air beside her. 

“Askin destroyed my eyes three days ago. I was able to reconstruct them temporarily, using Benihime’s bankai. Unfortunately, as I said, it was a temporary measure.”

“Oh.” She is clearly curious, but recognizes the taboo around asking for more information about a bankai. Ayame and Shun’ou take up position on either side of Kisuke’s head and activate their powers. 

Ichigo watches from behind Inoue’s shoulder as Kisuke’s eyelids slowly grow taut, filling out as his eyes are reconstructed. He sits silently, head still, as he’s healed. 

Finally the healing glow fades, Ayame and Shun’ou dispersing the field and return to her hair pins. 

“You can open your eyes, Urahara-san,” she says, softly. 

He does, blinking once to reveal steel-grey eyes that meet Ichigo’s immediately. He holds the gaze for a moment; then he winks.

Ichigo feels relief flood in, hot and heady, filling him so sharply it almost makes him dizzy. 

“It appears to have been successful,” says Kisuke, now looking at Inoue. “Thank you, Inoue-san.”

“You look a little peaky – you should rest here for a while,” she suggests.

“I will consider it,” he says, in a tone that means he’s already decided against it. Ichigo imagines he’ll be back at the Shoten within the hour, working on ways to rebuild Seireitei. 

“If you will excuse me then, I still have other patients to see.” She smiles at both of them and leaves, accompanied by Kiyone. 

“You probably should rest,” says Ichigo. Kisuke pushes himself up, allowing Ichigo to once again catch his elbow and steady him. 

“There will be time for that later.”

“I’ll let you go,” says Ichigo, “as long as you promise that this time you’ll come back. Without fail.”

Kisuke gives his hand a brief press and smiles. “I always do, don’t I?”

  
***

Kisuke takes a brief tour of Seireitei to observe the damage. He is grave and silent – a new side of him Ichigo has never seen – as he’s shown the lists of the dead and missing (his name still on them) and the ruin of the world he once called home.

He’s shaking by the end of it, still weak from his battle and his subsequent rush to find a cure for Yoruichi, his face very pale and his pupils just pin-pricks in an ash-grey sea.

“I’ll take you back,” says Ichigo, and he doesn’t protest. Together they step through the Garganta and back out on the road in front of Urahara Shoten. 

“What will you do now?” Kisuke asks him as Ichigo takes him inside and sets him down at his desk. 

“I don’t know. It seems unfair for me to just go back to my life – school, homework, university prep – with Soul Society in ruins.”

“They will recover,” says Kisuke.

“You’ll help them.” It’s not a question.

“Yes.”

“I know it won’t be right away, but… when I finish high school, I’d like to help. Help you to help them, I mean.” Ichigo runs a hand through his hair. “I know I don’t know a lot about your work, or even how Soul Society works, but… there has to be something I can do.”

“I’m sure we can find something.”

“And you’ll take care of yourself,” he says, pointedly.

Kisuke looks at him, eyes just a little coy. “I imagine if I don’t, you’ll be there to tell me about it.”

Ichigo feels his heart swell. He nods once, firmly. “Yeah. I will.”

“Then we’ll work it out. Together.” Kisuke reaches out and picks up his hat, placing it back on his head.

And just like that, everything is okay again. Just for this one moment. Ichigo smiles. 

“I like the sound of that.”

END

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't actually read the 1000 Year Blood War arc, so I apologize for any mistakes. I just couldn't just leave Urahara MIA.


End file.
